


Decisions

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s05e20 No Exit, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-11-02
Updated: 2004-11-02
Packaged: 2019-05-30 18:41:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15102674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Upset by CJ's indication that she needs to get away from Josh, Donnareflects on the decisions she's made and the ones she'll have to make in the future, regarding her relationship with Josh.





	Decisions

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Decisions**

**by:** Nadera

**Character(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Category(s):** Romance/Post-ep for No Exit  
**Rating:** MATURE  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
**Summary:** Upset by CJ's indication that she needs to get away from Josh, Donna reflects on the decisions she's made and the ones she'll have to make in the future, regarding her relationship with Josh.  
**Author's Note:** Feedback please. Only my second West Wing fiction, and I'd love to hear what people think. 

Donna hurried down the hall, clutching the oversized briefing binder to her chest. She stepped quickly but lightly, trying to minimize any noise she was making. The echo of Josh's voice, calling out her name in that curt demanding tone of voice she was overly used to, was still ringing in her ears, but she pushed forward through the glass doors and down the hall anyway. Her stomach constricted with pain and regret. She had always been a hard worker, a dedicated, straight forward person who never cut corners or backed down. She had never run out on a job, and though she knew that she was running out on Josh and not the job per se, and though she knew there was no more work to be done, no further reason for her to be there, she nonetheless hung her head in disappointment with herself. The truth was she no longer knew the difference between running out on Josh and running out on the job.

Outside, the air was cool, not because it was actually cold, it wasn't, it was just because it was late, extremely late, and her neck and shoulders were bare to the evening breeze. She took a moment to stop moving and catch a breath, to inhale the cool evening air. Compared to the stuffy room she had been locked in for the past several hours, the cool air was a relief. She didn't even bother to sling her wrap around her, instead keeping it clutched between her binder and her chest. 

She looked up and down the street outside the White House. With the exception of the guards and agents stationed outside the tall fence, the street was empty. It was late, actually early in the morning, and she instantly regretted running out of the building when she remembered that the Metro was no longer running. Josh would have at least given her a ride. She turned back to the gate and seriously considered going back in, pretending that she had been there the whole time and that she simply hadn't heard him. But she knew it was a mistake. She couldn't go back now, not just because her excuse was flimsy, but because she knew what she'd done and she wouldn't have been able to hide it. Even if she could have, it wouldn't have changed the way she felt. CJ's words were haunting her, bringing to the surface all of her own doubts, concerns and insecurities.

She had hated CJ when she had said it, she had wanted to turn away and walk out of her office, quarantine be damned. Instead she sat there and burrowed deep inside herself. She had read through the Middle East briefing, but hadn't digested any of the words. She would have to stay up late reading it again before she left in the morning. It wasn't really a problem, considering the night she'd had, she didn't imagine she would be getting any sleep any how. 

With a sigh, Donna turned and began walking down the street. It was a mistake and she knew it. Not only was it not safe, but her apartment was hardly in walking distance. If she managed to make it without being mugged, shot, or abducted, she wouldn't actually get to her apartment for several hours. At some point she was going to have to hail a cab, she just wasn't quite ready for that yet. She wasn't ready to be stuck back inside anywhere, and she was even less ready to be stuck there with another person, no matter who they were. So she walked; one high heeled shoe after the other, the soft silk of her gown brushing against her legs as she went, the wind playing with her intricate but stunning hair design. 

There were things CJ did not know. Things she couldn't have known. Things that only Josh and Donna knew. Donna turned left and headed unknowingly toward the mall, which, if she had been thinking, she would have realized was even less safe then the deserted DC streets. So CJ had been right. She did stay for Josh, she did rebuff or ignore or set aside for later the advances of other men, because of Josh. She wasn't delusional, she wasn't sitting around waiting for Josh to declare his love for her, woo her, marry her, father her children. She worked in the White House. He was the Deputy Chief of Staff. They were above reproach, and any relationship would have been out of the question, no matter how much they loved each other, or how much every one else, President included, understood that. It was unprofessional, and unwise, and nothing was more important to her than this Presidency, this White House, this President. 

Her steps became less certain as she moved from the concrete streets onto grass. She considered taking her shoes off, but didn't trust her fellow citizens enough to maintain the capitol's beauty. Who knew what trash had been littered around, and without more lights, she couldn't tell by sight alone. So she began walking slower, her strides no longer purposeful, her aim no longer clear.

Was it wrong to think of Josh as she did? Was it wrong to build her life around him? She thought back to CJ's words and what upset her the most was the tone of her voice, the kind of tight, disappointment that her words were laced with, disappointment aimed at both Donna and Josh. It made Donna cringe. Would it have been different if CJ knew what she knew?

Donna stepped on an uneven patch of grass and the thin heel of her shoe was unable to find stable footing. Her ankle twisted painfully and she had to react quickly to steady herself before she fell. The near stumble snapped her from her thoughts. She looked up, and with a panic, realized where she was. The reflecting pool stretched out in front of the Washington monument, the lights of the city and the moon glowed across the still water. She looked around cautiously, her pragmatism and her overactive imagination kicking in. As far as she could tell she was alone, it's just that she couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing. She walked towards the monument, where the light was stronger. Her ankle ached and walking in her heels was excruciating. She was anxious to get to the steps, to sit down and think things through. She wondered if a cab could find its way here and pick her up without her having to head back to the street. She doubted it. 

In a final painful stride, she made it to the steps. She collapsed down, no longer concerned with what the dirty concrete would do to her incredible expensive dress. The step she sat on was cold and hard and uncomfortable, but her aching ankle seemed to rejoice. It figured, she thought, she was always making bad decisions and paying for them. Not just big decisions, like Dr. Freeride, or lying about the diary to Cliff. She made stupid little mistakes too. She was the kind of person who would get to the airport to pick someone up just as the plane was landing, and there would be that moment where she would have to decide whether to walk to the gate and meet them there, or to stay and wait at baggage claim. She always chose the gate, and she always missed the person in passing. Bad decisions born out of good intent, but which always failed either from incomplete reasoning or cursed fate. 

She looked out across the pool and smiled at the beautiful sight. How had she ended up here? In DC, alone in the middle of the night, sitting at the Washington monument? It had been the biggest decision of her life to leave Wisconsin. It had been the one decision she got right. But from there, there were a serious of other decisions, and some of them, she had yet to figure out whether they were right or not. She closed her eyes and began to think about them.

They were decisions about Josh. They were decisions they had made individually and together, and they were decisions they had no real choice in. If she closed her eyes and concentrated, she could still remember the way his lips felt, soft and insistent, impassioned and yet distant.

The first time he kissed her she had been shocked, not in small part because she had been heavily campaigning for him to go out with Joey Lucas at the time. She had even left him at work with Joey and Kenny, on another late night, only this time she had taken a cab straight home, and had, after an hour, of watching CNN post-coverage of the President's State of the Union, been getting ready to go to bed. He had called her then, either because he knew she would be up, or simply didn't care if he woke her.

“Josh Lyman's personal slave,” she teased into the phone as she answered it. She didn't need caller i.d. to know it was him, but it helped.

“I like that,” he said flippantly. “It's got a good ring to it.”

“Don't get used to it. It's late and I'm punchy.”

“What are you doing still up?”

She furrowed her brow. “If you didn't think I'd be awake, why did you call me?”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone, and when Josh finally spoke, his voice was low and warm. “I knew you were awake. I can see the light on in your window.”

Donna's chest constricted, but she couldn't tell if it was the tone of his voice or the reality that he was standing on the street below that caused the sudden ache in her. She didn't answer him, but walked to the window, pulled the thin curtain back and looked down at him.

He was standing there, still dressed in the same clothes from work, his brown coat hanging loosely from him, and his phone pressed to his ear. He looked perfect to her, and she had to lean against the window pane to steady herself. When had she started to have feelings for him? She wasn't sure, and she wasn't sure it mattered. It had happened, and it was confusing and complicated, and nothing she ever planned to act on, but it had happened nonetheless. 

He looked up at her from the street and their eyes met. “Hi,” he breathed into the phone.

She smiled. “Hi.” 

“So I was thinking...” he started to say in the phone, his voice returning to its normal Joshua style.

“Oh-uh,” Donna replied shaking her head. “That's always dangerous.”

She couldn't see clearly, but she imagined he was down there smirking. “Thank you, Donnatella.”

“Are you going to come up?” she blurted out, and then cringed after. Was she being too forward? He didn't respond at first and she cursed herself for her demanding tone. “I mean, if...”

“No,” he replied plainly. “But you should come down.”

Donna's brow furrowed again in confusion. “Josh it's three in the morning.”

“So?”

“So, I'm in my pajamas.”

“So? I've seen you in your pajamas, Donna. The flannel is far from revealing.”

Donna looked down at herself and nodded. He was right, red checked flannel may be comfortable, but it didn't exactly reach any level of sexy. She suspected there was a reason Victoria's Secrets didn't carry them. 

“Why again am I coming down?” she asked, as she turned away from the window and headed toward the door. 

“Because I asked you to.”

“I was wondering if there was a more practical reason.”

Josh hesitated. “I, um, have something to tell you.”

“Okay, I'm listening.”

“Donna,” he whined. “Just get down here.”

“Fine.” Donna shut off her phone and left it on the table by the front door. She stepped into her slippers and padded down the stairs to the front door. Josh was now standing in front of it, peering into the windows in the door and watching her. When he saw her he took a step back and began bouncing around. Great, she thought, he's irrational and wired.

She pushed the door open and took one step out, careful to make sure the door didn't close and lock behind her. “Have you been drinking?” she asked accusatorily.

He made a face. “No,” he replied caustically, dragging out the “o” part until she wanted to smack him. She made an equally annoyed face back at him. “Okay, maybe,” he confessed. “But not much, maybe like one or two beers with Sam.”

“With Sam?” she asked. “I thought you were going to go out with Joey?”

At the mention of her name Josh turned and stared at Donna, his face searching hers so intently that she began to shift uncomfortably. 

“What?” she asked, looking down quickly to make sure that she was indeed still wearing clothes. 

“You,” he said with great suspicion. “You are obsessed with me and Joey Lucas.”

Donna laughed nervously. “I'm not obsessed,” she defended herself. “I told you I just think you two would make a nice couple.”

Josh took a step forward, until he was standing only one step below her, it made her breath catch to have him so near. “Do you really want me to go out with her, Donna?”

Donna froze. For the first time in a long time, she didn't understand what Josh was doing or why he was doing it. She was so good at reading him, even better at understanding him, but there on the stoop outside her building, he was becoming a mystery to her. She didn't know how to answer him, and what was worse, was that he asked the question as if he already suspected the truth. 

She didn't even know the truth. Did she want him to go out with Joey Lucas? Of course not. She wanted him to go out with her, and since they couldn't do that, she wanted him to take a vow of celibacy. But that was ridiculous and unfair. She hadn't taken such a vow, she continued to go out on dates, even if they tended to be bad and she tended to spend the night comparing her date to Josh. So, did she want him to go out with Joey Lucas? Of course she did. In a way it would make things easier, because it would force her to get over him, to realize that they could never be. Besides, Joey was a sweet person, a good person, and if he was going to date someone, it might as well have been her. Did she really want Josh to go out with Joey Lucas? She honestly didn't know. 

“Donna?” Josh called, snapping her out of her thoughts. “Donna, I asked you a question.”

She looked up at him, her face confused and uncertain, if not a little afraid. “Huh?”

He grinned a sardonic smirk, one she knew well. He had maneuvered himself into a position of power, control, he was winning at whatever game he was playing, and he knew he had the upper hand. “Donna, do you really want me to go out with Joey Lucas?”

“I..um..I..” she stuttered over her words, her mind loosing the ability to think up a glib counter-response. He was winning, but it wasn't his wits that was doing it. It was the way he was leaning in towards her, their eyes completely level. 

He smiled wider and then took a step forward until they were both standing on the top step. It was a narrow staircase to her front door and there was barely enough room for them to both stand there like that, facing each other. She took a step back, but was stopped by the cold wood of the front door. She leaned against it, her body pushed back into the door, as he leaned in closer until she could feel his breath on her cheek.

“Donna, do you really want me to go out with Joey Lucas?” he asked again, and she could feel the changes in his breath that each word made. She could smell him, could feel the wool of his coat brushing absently against her, but she couldn't not find an answer to give him.

“Donna?” he asked again.

To her surprise and his delight, she whimpered.

It was then that he closed the distance, his hands grabbing her waist and pulling her towards him as he stepped forward and pinned her against the door. His mouth took hers quickly and roughly. There was nothing cautious about him, no tentative first touches, or questioning probing. He demanded her lips, and with a moan she gave them up freely, her arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. Their tongues dueled effortlessly and eagerly, as hands grabbed and held tightly. 

Looking back, she suspected it hadn't lasted long, but at the time it had felt like forever, like the longest, most satisfying kiss in history. It was passion in its purest form and she was want to let it go. But even their passion could not overcome their combined reason, and as soon as he had grabbed her, he let her go and stepped back.

“I...I...” he stumbled, no longer the confident aggressor he had been before. 

Donna stayed pushed against the door, now relying on it for keeping her upright as she caught her breath. His eyes were wild and she was sure that hers were the same, but they both kept their distance.

“Donna, I'm...” It was unlike Josh to be speechless or inarticulate. She couldn't decide if she was glad or disappointed that she could render him as such. Slowly the reality of who they were washed over her, and she found her strength, and her humility come back.

It was enough to bring her back to reality, and she was able to stand up straight without the need of a door. She smoothed her shirt down with her hands, an action that was more for her state of mind then to compensate for her dishelved appearance. When she was finished, when she felt composed again, she looked up at his face and said simply, “Josh.”

He had been watching her fix herself, and when she spoke his name he nodded. “I understand.”

“It's not...” she started to explain, but then her voice faded. He was nodding again and she knew it wasn't necessary to explain how she felt.

“I understand,” he said again, this time more firmly. He too was now completely composed, back to the person she was familiar with, back to Joshua Lyman, Deputy Chief of Staff.

She groaned in disappointment and frustration. It was foolish to think they could ever be together, and they both knew it. Now they knew something else, neither had known before: that they both wanted.

“It's late,” she mumbled into the air around them.

Josh nodded. “I should go.”

She nodded. “See you in the morning.”  
  


He smiled briefly. “Yeah, see you in the morning.” He paused only briefly and then turned and headed down the street. She stayed and watched him go, her heart filled with longing and a new kind of sadness. It had been one thing to have feelings for him that could never have been acted on, never come to fruition. But now, to know that those feelings were reciprocated, only made it worse, only made it harder.

When he was out of sight, she headed back upstairs, into her apartment, and straight into bed. She lay there and thought about the memory of his kiss, the way he felt, the way it felt. It was like torture. She rolled onto her stomach and buried her head into the pillow. 

Looking out over the reflecting pool reminded her of how she had felt on that night, lost and found all at once. She had thought about leaving then, but had decided against it. It was the first of many decisions in which she reasoned that being near him was better than not having him at all, even if being near him was sometimes more pain than she could handle. But CJ couldn't have known that. CJ only saw a woman pinning, scared to walk away from some guy she idolized. CJ could not know of the secret promise Donna kept in her heart, the promise that one day, when it was over, when the administration was over, she and Josh would be together. 

Now she was questioning that promise. Why had Josh lied to her about the trip? Was he appeasing her? Had he just been trying to get her to shut about the trade agreement? She shook her head at the possible implications of CJ's words. Had he sold her a bill of goods? Did he think she was easy to deceive? Was he holding her back? Was he doing it on purpose?

If CJ's words had angered her, what they implied about Josh was crushing her. She was starting to feel betrayed, and she reasoned that if he was willing to lie to her about work, to deceive her, and sell her a bill of goods, why would she think he wouldn't do the same about his heart? Had she been a fool this whole time, standing by him, staying with him because she believed they were in love? Because she believed that they were meant to be together, even if present circumstances precluded it?

She had stood by while he dated Amy. She had stood by while he directed his post traumatic stress anger at her. She wasn't absolved in any respect. She had paraded Jack in front of him, thinking that he would be a legitimate substitute. She had gone out with her requisite gomers. And now she had sneaked out on him. That first kiss hadn't been the last. It had been the beginning of a legacy of bad decisions, where now and then, when they were both weak enough from exhaustion, physical or emotional, they would find their lips accidentally pressed together. The truth was that they hadn't been fair to each other, and the occasional kiss, the accidental groping in some hallway, or the office late at night, only made it harder for either of them to officially let go of their shared delusion. After all these years, she wondered if they would ever be able to find a way to each other, regardless of their jobs. She was starting to believe that they had been through too much, and that tonight was the last straw.

When her cell phone rang, she almost ignored it. She supposed she would have, if it weren't that she was stuck at the Washington Monument in the middle of the night with a twisted ankle and no way home. 

“Yeah,” she said blandly into the phone.

“Where the hell are you?”

His voice annoyed her, more so than usual. She considered hanging up, but decided he was at least worth a ride. “I'm at the Washington Monument.”

“WHAT?!” She pulled the phone away from her ear until his voice calmed. “It's four in the morning, Donna, what the hell are you doing there?”

She shrugged even though he couldn't see her. “Sitting here,” she responded with little emotion.

“Hey, crazy lady, you're going to get attacked.” Donna sighed. She had been worried of the same thing, and she didn't need to be reminded. “Why didn't you take a cab home?”

She shrugged again. “I don't know. Why do we do any of the things we do? Why do we make any of the choices we make?”

“Donna,” Josh interrupted, his voice strained with anger. “Go to the street and I will pick you up in five minutes.”

Donna sighed. “It's going to look like the White House Deputy Chief of Staff is picking up a hooker.”

“Donna! I don't give a fuck what it looks like, meet me there.”

She sighed again. “I can't.”

“What the hell do you mean you can't?”

“I twisted my ankle.”

“You what?”

“My ankle, twisted.”

Josh breathed a heavy sigh into the phone, but she didn't care. She was finding the will to care about anything slowly draining out of her. She had spent the past six years believing in a future that didn't exist, that wasn't going to come true, and now the present just didn't seem all that important. “I'm going to be there in ten minutes,” he said firmly. 

“Whatever.” She shut the phone off and turned the ringer to silent, before placing it back in her purse. If he got here, he got there. In the meantime, she didn't want to have to hear his voice. 

She closed her eyes again and tried to banish Josh from her thoughts. It was impossible. So little of her life for the past six years had occurred without Josh being a part of it. He was there for every big moment, even little moments, and the occasional inconsequential moments.

Her mouth smiled at some of the memories. Despite herself, despite how hurt and angry she was, she couldn't forget the happiness he had brought her as well. In her mind, she pictured his face bright and smiling, wide with laughter. The smell of paint thinner reached her nose, and the memories came back.

It was shortly after her roommate moved out that she decided to repaint her apartment. After their accidental road trip on the campaign trail, she had demanded a day off. Nothing fancy, just one day, in which she could wash the dust of middle America out of her hair and focus on her own sense of home. Not in small part because she guessed that he blamed himself for missing the campaign bus, Josh had agreed. She was thrilled to receive his okay, and even more thrilled when he showed up at her apartment the next day, complete with paint brush.

“What are you doing here?” she had asked, her voice a mixture of uncertainty and elation. 

He shrugged and stepped past her, into her apartment. “I decided I deserved a Saturday off too.”

She smiled as he made himself comfortable, heading into the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of water. He kicked his shoes off by the couch and then sat down, resting his legs on the coffee table and looking up at her expectantly. “When do we start painting?”

She smiled brightly. “You really don't have to...” she started to say, but he shook her off with his hand. “Thank you, Josh,” she responded to his gesture.

He smiled and got up from the couch, grabbed his paint brush and began to explain, in lengthy detail, his skill as a house painter. She rolled her eyes and pushed him into her old roommate's bedroom. They painted for hours, and Josh told her stories from a failed summer in Connecticut, when he actually did work as a house painter. She encouraged his story, thrilled by the happy way in which he remembered his father, and the sweet words he used to describe his mother and her encouragement. He seemed happy and carefree, standing next to her, filling the wall with lavender paint and joking about his childhood.

Watching him, his shirt sleeves rolled up, a small dab of paint on his cheek, she had gotten this odd look into her future, into what it would be like to just be Josh and Donna, without the jobs and the hectic, out of control lifestyle that was currently keeping them apart. She hadn't realized that in her daydreaming she had stopped painting, had turned and was standing there watching him. She hadn't realized that her hand had lowered and the brush she was holding was now dripping pale paint onto the floor.

Josh turned to her when he realized she was no longer painting. He turned and saw her face, the way he was watching her with glazed, dreamy eyes, and it made him laugh. “Donna,” he said her name sweetly. “You're dripping paint.”

“Huh?” Jolted from her daydream she looked down and saw the paint pooling around her bare foot and the plastic wrap she had laid down across the hardwood floors for protection. “Oh God!” She lifted her hand and the brush and then, watching to prevent further leaks, set the brush down in the bin holding the paint. 

Behind her she could hear Josh laughing. She turned back to him and made a face. “Thanks for your concern,” she said sarcastically, but already she was starting to laugh at herself as well.

Josh's laughter increased. “Your foot,” he said through bouts of laughter. “Your foot is purple.”

Donna looked down. Sure enough it was true, there was hardly any alabaster skin still showing on her right foot. She looked back up with puppy dog eyes. “Technically, it's lavender.”

Josh shook his head and laughed some more. “Come here,” he said, and without warning, he walked to her, and picked her up in his arms. On instinct she wrapped her legs around his waist to keep from falling. He held her in his arms and carried her to the bathroom, where he placed her down on top of the sink.

Donna's heart was racing at the sensation of being near to him. It had been almost a year since he first kissed, a year in which they had shared only the occasional late night kiss, born from exhaustion or exhilaration, each time with the look of regret afterwards once the realization kicked back in that, no matter how they felt, they simply couldn't be together. 

He ran the water and looked up at her while he waited for it to get warm. With her sitting on the sink, his face inadvertently came up to her breasts. She didn't mind. She looked down at him with happy eyes, glad only to be near him. He smiled back, and then, unexpectantly, leaned forward and rested his forehead under her chin. Donna sighed and wrapped her arms around, hugging him close to her. She heard him sigh, and felt his breath against the bare skin under neck, before the collar of her shirt began. Then he pulled back and, after smiling at her once more, turned his attention back to the sink, where the water was starting to steam. 

He ran a washcloth under the water and then turned off the faucet. He grabbed her right foot in his hand, and began to run the cloth over her skin, wiping away the purple.

“What were you thinking?” he asked causally, as his hand made small circles around her foot.

It was making her heady. “Thinking when?” she mumbled.

Josh smiled, but didn't look up at her. “When you spaced out back there while painting. You looked like you were thinking something.”

Donna tensed slightly and Josh, no doubt sensing it all the way down in her foot, quickly looked up at her with a questioning face. She relaxed again to throw him off. “Just things,” she said.

“What things?”

She sighed. “I was thinking about the future, I guess.”

He nodded. “Any particular kind of future?”

Donna shrugged. “A happy one.”

“Really?” he asked. Her foot was almost back to normal, and he turned and rinsed the washcloth in the sink before returning to his ministrations. “And what did your happy future look like?”

Donna blushed despite herself. “I don't know,” she mumbled. “It was more of a feeling than a picture.”

“Oh,” he said simply. He took one more swipe of her foot with the cloth, and then deciding it was clean, tossed the cloth in the sink. She was starting to slide off the sink, but Josh had taken her foot back in his hand, and was now rubbing his fingers along the underside, massaging her freshly cleaned alabaster skin. 

Donna's heart began to race, and she involuntarily moaned at the sensation. She noticed Josh's face light up at the sound. “Tell me more about this future.”

“I told you, not much to tell.”

“Well, are you still in DC in this future?”

Donna smiled at his subtle interrogations. “Maybe. Yeah, I think so.”

“And are you still working at the White House?”

She shook her head seductively, egged on by the sensuous pattern his fingers were tracing into her foot. 

“No, I was thinking further in the future, when Bartlett's not in office.”

“Oh.” He paused, and his hands began to move upwards, massaging her ankle and then her calf. She groaned again. “And are you alone in this future?”

“No,” Donna nearly whimpered, as his hands separated, one continuing to massage her right leg, while the other began to slide up her left. 

“So you're with someone?”

She nodded, and bit her lower lip, as each hand moved up past her knee, and onto her thighs. She mentally thanked herself for putting on short shorts.

“And you're happy with this someone?”

“Uh, huh. Very.” His hands were sliding to the outside of her thighs, and to compensate he leaned forward, pressing his chest into her stomach, his head coming to her chest.

“Do I know this someone?”

She nodded once more as he slid his hands inside her shorts, pushing them up her leg, until he was feeling the outline of her lace panties. 

“Josh,” she moaned with pleasure, and her took her response as both a confession and demand. His head tilted up as hers lowered, and he captured her lips with a gentle eagerness. It was different from the sorted encounters they had had in the past, fleeting and infrequent, fueled by unyielding desire. This was planned, this was a seduction he had begun, and he took his time in exploring the counters of her mouth, the plushness of her lips, and the soft silky feel of her legs beneath his hands.

She moaned once more into the kiss, and the sound was making them both loose control. He lifted her off the sink, not breaking their heavy kissing, and they stumbled together into her bedroom, the memory of painting lost for the day. She was gaining control again, and since he was walking backwards, he relied on her to guide them without harm. She was successful, and in a matter of moments they were falling onto her bed. 

It wasn't that she thought this was going to change everything. It wasn't that she suddenly thought it was the right thing to do. She didn't. Even as she returned his kisses, and gave herself to him, she knew it was wrong, she knew that they should stop. It was never going to be more than these stolen moments. They were never going to be more than boss and assistant, and yet she could not bring herself to say “no.” She could not bring herself to push him away, to deny herself this thing that he wanted so badly. Even though she knew it was bound to make everything that much harder, she pushed her concerns away, and pulled his shirt up and over his head.

“Donna,” he groaned as she tossed her own shirt to the side, and his hands ran up her bare stomach to cup her breasts. “God, Donna.”  His voice was an aphrodisiac and she feel forward, crashing into his bare chest, her lips seeking out his. 

They fit together perfectly, each moving with the same speed and insistence, reverence and devotion. She didn't even notice the series of movements it took to finally divest them of their clothing, or to locate protection, or to pull back the covers on her bed. They simply happened, as if the universe was conspiring to bring them together. She suspected the universe was, but that in the process, it had developed a sick sense of humor.

“Donna!” The memory of lavender paint and Josh's lips faded as she looked up into the dark night sky. “Donna!”

“Hey,” she responded, listlessly waving a hand in his direction.

In the darkness he made out her shape and hurried to her. “God, Donna!” he groaned and she was struck by how different that expression sounded from the last time she had heard it escape his mouth. She frowned in disappointment. “Do you have any idea how stupid this is? Being out here like this?”

She shrugged, but didn't answer.

He threw his arms in the air and groaned loudly. “What the hell is with you?” he demanded.

She felt bad then, slightly. He was obviously concerned about her, and she appreciated it, but she simply could not muster the energy to respond to him. She was so confused. This is was how it always lately, jumping back and forth between loving him and hating him. Sometimes she wished they could get away from each other. Maybe this trip to the Middle East would be good for them, give them each space and perspective.

“Donna!” He was standing there in his tux, the bow tie undone and hanging limply around his neck. His eyes were wide and inflamed and he was staring at her with such shock and confusion that she was struck once more with how far they were drifting apart.

“I'm sorry,” she offered, hoping that it would placate him. She just didn't know what else to say or do.

He stared at her for some time and then shook his head and sighed. “Let's go,” he said finally. “Let's just go.”

She nodded, and started to stand up, but the sitting had made her ankle complacent and it screamed with pain as she tried to step on it. “Uhf!,” she managed as her leg started to give out on her.

Josh was at her side, grabbing her arm and holding her up. “You okay?”

“My ankle.”

“Right. Twisted.”

She smiled shyly, suddenly feeling stupid and vulnerable.

“It's okay,” he told her. “Lean on me.”

She nodded slowly and allowed his arm to snake around her waist. She leaned into him, and they walked slowly past the reflecting pool, back across the grass, to the street where his car was waiting. They did not speak in the process, and Donna was grateful for his silence as well as his strength. It took some time, but they made it there safely, and with great care, Josh helped her into his car. 

He headed away from Dupont Circle to her apartment. She looked out the window, avoiding his face, because she was still too confused and lost in her own thoughts, to know what to say or do. Eventually he spoke up.

“Where were you after they let us out? I kind of expected you to check in. At least say when you were leaving.”

She grimaced. She felt like a jerk for taking off. “I'm sorry,” she admitted for the second time. “I didn't realize you needed something.”

“I didn't...” he paused and out of the corner of her eye she saw him shake his head and bit his lip. “I just thought you'd let me know you were leaving, that's all.”

He sounded hurt and vulnerable, and Donna felt even worse. “I am sorry, Josh.”

He shrugged. “No big deal.”

She knew he was just covering, but she didn't call him on it, just nodded and looked away.

“So,” he said after awhile. “You have fun stuck in a room with CJ?”

Donna sighed at the memory, and then straightened her back to hide her frustration. It's was too late though, Josh had seen it.

“What?” he asked, turning to look at her with concern. “Did something happen with you and CJ?”

Donna shook her head. “No, everything was fine. We just talked.”

He looked at her but didn't push it. “She gave you the briefing for the trip?”

“Huh?” Donna looked down at the large black binder in her lap, the one she had been clutching all night. 

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, she did.”

“You leave in the morning.” 

He had said it, like a statement, but she responded “Yeah,” as if he was asking. “In four hours, actually,” she said looking at the clock on the dashboard.

He nodded. “You can sleep on the plane,” he offered.

“Yeah,” she answered and looked back out the window.

“The thing is,” he started to say, after a minute or two of silence had passed. “CJ stopped by to say good-bye on her way out..” Donna stiffened again in her seat. “And she didn't say why, but she seemed worried about you.”

Donna shrugged her shoulders but didn't respond.

“She seemed like she felt bad about something,” Josh added, and Donna could tell he was prodding without trying to push her. 

“Really?” Donna asked nonchalantly. “I don't know why she would worry.”

Out of the corner of her eyes she saw him nod. “Yeah,” he offered, “I didn't get it either.” He paused again. “But then I called you, and you were sitting out on the Washington Monument by yourself at three in the morning.”

Donna blushed. She should have known better than to think she could keep things from Josh. “I'm fine,” she protested. “I, just, I was just thinking about things, and I wandered, and hurt my ankle, that's all.”

“Donna,” Josh said, his voice more stern than before. “You wandered around at three in the morning in the middle of D.C. by yourself. Anything could have happened to you.”

Donna sighed, she was starting to get annoyed again. “But it didn't. Nothing happened to me.”

She was surprised when he pulled the car over and shifted it into park, but then she looked up and realized that they were outside of her apartment. Josh made no move to turn off the car, or unlock the doors. He gripped the steering wheel tightly and said in a tight, angry voice. “But it could have. God, Donna, it could have.” Then he turned to look at her, and the wild angry look he had when he first found her at the monument was back.

“Josh, I...”

“No, Donna. I don't want hear you apologize, or rationalize this. What you did was incredibly stupid and selfish. Who knows what could have happened to you, and then what would...what would I...” he trailed off, and his shoulders slumped over from the weight of his words.

“What would you what, Josh?” she probed him. “What were you going to say.”

He looked at her with sad, tired eyes. “What would I do if something happened to you?” he asked sadly.

Donna's heart clenched, and she had to turn away from him to keep the tears from rolling down her face. 

“Josh,” she said sadly. “I can't keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”  She turned to him and stared at him, until he nodded in understanding. “I know,” he said. “But what choice do we have?”

“We don't have one. We can't decide to do or not do something about how we feel. It's just not our choice.”

He sighed and looked out the window. “Donna, you know if things were different, if I could find a way...”

“I know.”

He turned back and gave her a weak smile. “It doesn't mean you can go walking around the city at night.”

Donna nodded. “I know, and I am sorry, Josh. I didn't mean to worry you. I just got lost in my thoughts.”

He sighed again, and she was surprised to find that he was still frustrated. “Your thoughts that you suddenly have after being stuck in a room with CJ all night.”

She raised an eyebrow and looked at him with uncertainty. She almost felt as if he was trying to fight with her. “What do you mean?”

It was then that he reached out with his hand and turned the keys in the ignition until the car was off. He pulled the keys out and dropped them in his coat pocket. “Donna,” he said sternly. “I know something happened. I don't know what, but it obviously was big enough that CJ felt bad, and big enough that you can't just let it go. And I don't understand why you're lying to me about it.”

Donna stared at him blankly, trying to hide the anger that was growing in her. “I'm not lying to you, Josh, I just don't want to talk about it. I don't have to talk to you about everything.”

His eyes narrowed at hers. “You do if I find you wandering around the mall at three in the morning.”

“Josh, I appreciate that you gave me a ride, but it doesn't mean I owe you anything.”

“Jesus, Donna, when did we stop being friends? When did you stop being able to talk to me?”

“Right about the time you stopped being honest with me about my job.”

He blanched at her words and turned completely to the side so he could stare at her face on. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You know what it means!” she shouted. “You lied to me about why I got the spot to go to the Middle East. You never needed me to report back to you. Admiral Fitzwallace was always going to do that. You were just trying to appease me. You sold me a bill of goods!”

“Hey, I didn't sell you anything. I did exactly what you asked me to.”

She shook her head. “I didn't ask for this.”

Josh made a face. “You asked me for more from your job. I got it for you.”

She shook her head again and repeated CJ's words. “You sold me a bill of goods.”

“Stop saying that!” he shouted at her. “I don't even know what the hell that's supposed to mean. I got what I could. Do you think I want you to go on this trip? Do you think I want you to be gone for a week, much less to one of the most violent areas of the world? Of course I don't. I did it because it's what you wanted.”

“Since when does it matter what I want?” she shouted back at him.

Josh stared blankly at her and didn't respond. Silence filled the car as they watched each other. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, less angry and laced with more hurt. “What is this about, Donna? Is this about work? Is this about us?”

She turned away from him and bit her tongue. It was all becoming too much for her, her doubts, her fears, and insecurities, her memories, CJ's words, her inability to have what she truly wanted. 

“Donna?” He started to reach out for her. “What did CJ say to you?”

Donna sighed heavily and looked down at her feet. “She said I needed to get away from you,” she mumbled. “She said you were holding me back and I was letting you, and that I needed to get away, do something else, see other people, do anything not related to you.”

His hand retreated back to his lap, and she feared looking up at him, not wanting to know what his face looked like. He was silent for a long time and she continued to stare into the darkness surrounding her feet, as if she might be able to fall into it and never be heard from again.

“I see,” he finally said. “No wonder you had a lot to think about.” He shrugged his shoulders, and then suddenly sat up straight as if something had just fallen into place. “Oh, God, I get it. No wonder you left without saying good bye. You must have wanted to get as far away from me as possible.”

Donna turned away from her feet and reached out for him. “Josh, no.” She grabbed his hand but he pulled it out of her reach.

“No, it's okay, Donna,” he told her, with a sad smile. “The thing is, CJ's not entirely wrong. You would be better off if you got away from me.”

Donna shook her head. “No, I wouldn't.”

“Yes, you would. You'd have a better job, a better life.”

“I have a great life,” she said quietly. “I have a great job.”

He smiled weakly at her. “It's okay to say you want more than this.” He sighed and shook his head. “Donna, it's been wrong of me to ask you to live like this, wondering what if, waiting for something that may or may not be possible. I should never have asked you to do this.”

“You didn't ask me, Josh. And I didn't ask you. It was just decided.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are we sure it was the right decision?”

“How can we know?” she asked plainly. “How can we ever know?”

He looked at her, scanning her face, and then smiled brightly.

“What?” she asked.

He smiled sweetly, and reached over to brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You do look amazing tonight.”

She blushed and then laughed. “Josh,” she whined. 

He laughed in return. “I know,” he said.

She reached out and ran a finger down his cheek before pulling her hand back. “Come inside.”

“What would I do there?”

She shrugged. “You can help me back.” She sensed his hesitation. “I'm going to need help up the stairs anyway.”

He smiled then and she figured that she must have given him a good enough excuse. “You sure we shouldn't take you to a hospital to get that looked at?”

She shook her head, and he nodded in response, before unlocking the doors. They stepped out and she waited for him to come around. He did and helped her gingerly up the stairs, down the hall and into her apartment. Inside, he helped her to the couch and let her sit, before heading back to the door and locking it behind them.

“Three hours and counting,” he said sadly looking up at the clock on the wall.

She groaned. “Hardly seems like enough time to do anything.”

“You tired?” he asked.

She nodded. 

“We should start packing then.”

Donna blushed. “Actually, I'm already packed. I packed two days ago.”

Josh raised his eyebrows at her and smiled devilishly. She couldn't help but laugh. “So you tricked me.”

She shrugged. “You were looking for a reason, I supplied one. In the process it slipped my mind that it was a bad one.”

He laughed. “You have been doing this job for too long.”

She smiled brightly. “I figured out how to manipulate you early on, Josh.”

“Don't I know it.”

She stood up from the couch, keeping her weight off her injured ankle, and using the arm rest for support. “Come on,” she said and turned back toward her bedroom.

“Where to?” he hesitated.

“We have three hours, Josh.”

“Donna.” His voice was uncertain and yet clear, as if he was giving a speech instead of just saying her name.

She took a tentative step around the couch toward the bedroom, turning her back toward him in the process. “Josh,” she spoke quietly. “Come with me.”

He didn't answer, but she heard his movements and without waiting for him, she began to hobble to her bedroom. He caught up with, and wrapped his arm around her waist again, letting her lean into him so he could guide them. He helped her to the bed where she sat on the edge. He bent down and took her heels off, setting them gingerly aside. He started to reach up to the straps of her dress, but his hands hung around her neck with uncertainty before giving up and letting them fall. Donna laughed at his awkwardness.

He made a face. “I'm not sure I know how this works,” he confessed.

She smiled and reached her arms out. “Help me stand.”

He stood up, and brought her with him. When she was up, she lifted her arms in the air and smiled shyly. “Start from the bottom and pull up,” she instructed.

He hesitated and then bent over slightly, grabbing the soft willowy material in his hands. He began to stand, lifting his arms in the process, and the dress as a result. He do so slowly, letting the material glide up her body, slowly exposing her pure skin underneath. She was wearing white lace panties, and a matching strapless bra, a fact that made him gulp when it became aware to him. At last he was standing face to face with her, the material bunched in his hands, her body nearly bare in front of him. He paused to look longingly into her eyes, a silent understanding passing before them, and then he lifted his arms the final length and pulled the dress over her head. 

He set it carefully on the chair next to her bed, and she watched him, smiling gratefully as he did. She started to sit back on the bed, but he held on, telling her to wait for a second, and then reached behind her and pulled back the covers. When he was done, he helped lower her back to the bed. She laid down, pulling the bobby pins from her hair, until it feel around her face in a halo of blonde curls. He smiled at the sight, and ran a hand through the tousled tendrils. 

She sighed, and turned towards his hand, reveling in the feel of their closeness. 

He sat down on the bed and smiled down at her. He kicked off his shoes, threw of his jacket, unbuttoned and discarded his shirt, all while maintaining eye contact with her. “Scoot over,” he said quietly when he was finished. She obliged, turning on her side so that her back was to him, and he climbed under the covers next to her bare body, still clothed in his undershirt and tux pants. He pulled her to him, until her back was flush against him, and his face was nestled next to hers.

“Go to sleep,” he whispered to her.

“Can't be late,” she mumbled back, her voice thick with exhaustion.

“I'll wake you. Don't worry, I'm not going to sleep.”

She started to turn to look at him. “You're not?”

He held her tight, and shook his head. “No, don't worry about me. I just want to lay here and hold you.”

She nodded and let out a sigh. “It's not going to make it any easier,” she said clearly.

“I know.”

“This doesn't change anything.”

“I know.”

“We can't...”

“I know, Donna.” 

His voice was stern and she made a face even though he couldn't see her. She wasn't trying to be a killjoy, she was just tired of deluding herself, and him in the process. 

He nuzzled her neck and sighed sweetly. “I just need this,” he confessed. “Before you go away.”

“It's only a week,” Donna answered. “Then I'll be back.”

“Promise,” he told her.

“What?”

“Promise you'll come back to me.”

She turned around in his arms and looked at his face. It was serious and vulnerable. “Are you talking about work? Or are you talking about us?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Does it matter? Is there a difference?”

She thought about it, and how she had contemplated the exact same thing hours earlier. She still didn't know. She still couldn't see where one ended and the other began. Everything was still as uncertain, unsure: the present, the future. She had no idea what was going to happen between them, if her oft-dreamed future was going to come true, or if things were always going to be out of reach. She had no idea what decisions they were going to have to make, what was ahead for them, and if they'd make it out together. But she knew how she felt, and she knew how Josh felt, and she knew that for this one time, for this one choice, there was only one decision to make.

She leaned her head forward so their foreheads were touching. The sensation was warm and comforting. “I promise,” she whispered to him. 

“You'll come back to me?”

She smiled. “Yes. I promise to come back to you.”

He smiled and held her close. “Good.”

END 


End file.
